The Doctor's Excellent Adventure
by Nesariel
Summary: After the events of "Waters of Mars", the Doctor finds himself with a pair of very unlikely companions. Note: there will be more crossing over as the story continues. Now on chapter two. Please read and review.
1. The Phone Booth and the Police Box

Chapter One: The Phone Booth and the Police Box

The Doctor knew what was coming. He had to answer the call from Ood Sigma, and that meant that his song would soon come to an end. Not the sort of future one looked forward to, not even a Time Lord who had already regenerated nine times.

Still, even a life that reached over nine centuries held surprises now and then.

A phone booth, much like the ones used in the late 1980s on Earth materialized in the middle of the TARDIS.

"What?" exclaimed the Doctor. His shields hadn't even been down this time. "What?"

The door to the phone booth opened, and out stepped two teenage boys. The taller one had a dark mop of hair, and wore a black vest over a white t-shirt, an orange shirt tied around his waist over black shorts with a smiley face, and black-and-white trainers. The other had shorter, curly blond hair, and wore a blue shirt over a white t-shirt, worn blue jeans with an upside-down question mark, and white trainers with red laces.

"What."

"Whoa," said the darker-haired one, "this is like something out of Star Trek."

"Science fiction nonsense. Hold on," said the Doctor, his mind (as usual) flittering about at a million kilometers per hour, even as his sonic screwdriver chittered away. "This technology... late 27th Century, Earth. Brilliant job with the chameleon circuit, though it's a bit primitive."

"We should probably introduce ourselves," said the brown-haired lad. "I'm Ted 'Theodore' Logan."

"And I'm Bill S. Preston, Esquire," cut in the blond. "And we are..."

"Wild Stallyns!" shouted the Doctor. "Brilliant! Oh, brilliant!"

"He totally knows us, Ted."

"Excellent," exclaimed the two boys, jamming out most righteously on their air guitars.

"Excellent, yes, but completely, _completely_ wrong. Judging by the fact that you are not, in fact, currently creating world peace through music, and are, in fact, in the middle of my TARDIS, I would say you are approximately, oh, _way_ off track."

"Dude," said Ted, "he's right. We need to get my dad's keys, a tape recorder, and a trash can, so we can totally have gotten all the historical dudes out of jail."

"Have gotten?" asked the Doctor. As in 'crossing their own timelines', as in paradox, a wound in time, and what that would bring. He winced. "Oh..." If time was to be saved from a massively huge wrinkle in the timey-wimey stuff, he was most definitely going to have to get involved. "Right. San Dimas, 1988." He ran about, madly flipping levers and turning dials as the whoosh of the TARDIS engines carried them down a completely different time track.


	2. The Wrong Track

Chapter Two: The Wrong Track (of course...)

"So, Doctor-dude," said Bill S. Preston, Esquire, picking his best friend and most excellent bandmate, Ted 'Theodore' Logan up from where he had been thrown, "is it always this heinous?"

The Doctor, for his part, merely stared at the TARDIS controls. "No, not usually. Something is most decidedly wrong." He perked his head up, "Right, no use standing about. TARDIS seems fine, let's get out there and gather what you need."

"Excellent," said Ted.

The trio exited the TARDIS, and the two boys stopped dead in their tracks.

"Oh, right," said the Doctor. "I usually have to do this part in reverse order. Well, except for that time with Donna."

"Whoa," said Ted.

"Where's the rest of it?" asked Bill.

"It's bigger on the inside," explained the Doctor. "And no, I'm not going to explain it. Not that you'd understand anyway... oh my."

Precisely at that moment, the Doctor realized that they were not, in fact, in San Dimas. It was also entirely likely they were not in 1988, either, as that would be far too convenient.

"Dude," said Bill. "This doesn't look like San Dimas."

"It's not," said the Doctor. "We're in San Fransisco."

"Whoa," said Ted.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is that all you can say?"

"No," Ted replied.

"Good," said the Doctor. "Very limited vocabularies make me a bit nervous."

A man approached. He had red hair, a rough sort of face, and wore a black coat. "Doctor... what was it again?"

The Doctor had not, as yet, ever seen this man before. To one who saw the turn of the universe (as the Doctor did), he looked a bit... off. Displaced perhaps.

"Never mind that. I'm more interested in what's on _your_ mind."

"Er... yeah. I just never got a chance to thank you for your help earlier."

"Well... all in a day's work."

"Hey, where's that girl that was with you. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's... well, I'm sure she's fine."

The man studied the Doctor with the acuity of a psychiatrist or... no, not a psychiatrist, a reporter. He had the look of a journalist, scoping an angle.

"Anyway, thanks for the help," said the man, extending his hand.

"Any time," said the Doctor, accepting the handshake.

"Yeah, I've... gotta go."

"Right. Don't want to keep you. Good luck."

"Thanks," said the stranger, walking away.

"Who was that, Doctor-dude?" asked Ted.

"I have no clue," the Doctor replied, "but I suspect we'll find out."


	3. Day of the Living Complication

Chapter 3 - Day of the Living Complication

The stranger had walked into a small cafe, called the Cafe Luna. The Doctor, his curiosity piqued, decided to stick around, to get a feeling for what, precisely, was going on.

"Whoa, check it out, Bill." said Ted, his gaze fixed upon a semi-truck which had been parked across the street. The truck had a stylized logo of a pig, along with the words 'Porkchop Express' painted onto it. This, however, was not what had drawn the lad's attention. That honor belonged to the chrome logo on the front, which had a silhouette of a reclining, naked girl, and the word 'Haulin' Ass'.

The Doctor shook his head and smiled. Lads will be lads.

His smile melted as something about the truck struck him as not-quite-right.

With a quickness, he crossed the street, sonic screwdriver in hand. The device twittered and chirped as he scanned the truck, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly.

"Um, Doctor-dude?" Bill was tugging on the Doctor's sleeve.

"Not now, Bill. These readings..."

"No, seriously, dude."

The Doctor turned from the truck to see what, precisely, was so important. What he saw, and what had the lads nigh frozen, was a small army of what appeared to be ambulatory corpses. "Right," said the Timelord, "I don't want to panic you, but... RUN!"

The trio made a mad dash for the nearby TARDIS, the Doctor scrambling for his key.

The walking dead noticed them, and followed much quicker than one might expect.

"This is non-non-heinous," said Ted as the zombies closed in.

"No worries," said the Doctor, fumbling with the lock.

"Hurry, Doctor-dude."

Finally, the Doctor opened the door, and the trio jumbled inside. The door locked, trapping the things on the other side.

"Are you sure we're safe in here?" asked Bill.

"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through."

"We've met him,too," said Ted. "He most excellently love Twinkies."

The Doctor made a face, as though he had eaten a rotten lemon.

"So what are those things? They looked like that Thriller video, except without the dancing and Michael Jackson."

"I think those were most non-bodacious zombies," said Ted.

The Doctor ran around the TARDIS control panel flipping switches and turning dials. "Those were most decidedly not zombies."

"How do you know, Doctor-dude?"

"Because zombies don't exist. Those were... something else. Something which most decidedly should not be here."

The TARDIS engines whooshed and whirred as the old type-40 lurched into the time stream.

"We need to get something, and I think... twenty-ninth century. No one will miss it there."


	4. From the Ash

Chapter Four - From the Ash

He staggered from the cave, sticky webs still stuck to his hair and full length beard. The harsh light of day nearly blinded him. His eyes became accustomed to a light they had not seen since the middle ages. True, he had spent all that time sleeping, but still...

All around, he saw the wreckage of what had once been London. Buildings had fallen over, and the ruin of Big Ben stood above it all like some derelict king. "I've slept too long," he cried. "I slept too..."

His lamentation ceased as a ratcheting whoosh repeated itself over and over, becoming louder with each iteration. He had to blink as a blue box, clearly marked 'Police Call Box' materialized, finally settling with a thud.

The doors opened, and a man in a brown coat and blue suit stepped out. "Here we are, twenty-ninth... oh, hello."

"What is it, Doctor-dude?"

The man was followed by a pair of teenage boys, one blond, one dark-haired. "Whoa," said the dark haired one.

"I'm the Doctor," said the man, "and these are my companions..."

"Bill S. Preston, esquire," said the blond.

"And I'm Ted 'Theodore' Logan," said the other.

"Ash Williams."

The man standing in front of the cave, Ash Williams by name, presented a problem. This was Earth in the twenty-ninth century, and everyone was meant to be gone by now. Not only that, but his right hand had been replaced with a highly improbable replacement fashioned from what appeared to be the gauntlet from a suit of armor. A quick scan with his sonic screwdriver told the Doctor that the man was no less than fifteen hundred years old, which was, itself, highly improbable.

"You're not meant to be here," said the Doctor.

"I slept too long," Ash replied. "It's a really long story, but let's just say that I was supposed to wake up in the twentieth century, not the..."

"Twenty-ninth," said the Doctor. "Right. Easy enough. We'll just pick up what we're here for, then we can drop you off."

"Groovy," said Ash.


End file.
